The Nature of War
by Amicitia1
Summary: Certain X-kids press Kurt's buttons, and hostilities escalate out of control. In the face of impending crisis, it's up to Amara to set things right. Complete story.
1. Blowing a Fuse

A/N: Don't own it. I just borrow the characters and make them play a game for my own sadistic amusement. If I happen to entertain you along the way, more's the better. R and R!  
  
  
"Hey! Hey K-man!" Evan flagged down his friend in the upstairs hallway of the Xavier Institute for Gifted Youngsters.  
  
Kurt, sometimes known as K-man, glanced over his shoulder. "Guten tag Evan!" he waved. "What can I do for you?"  
  
"Yeah, I have this, uh, major report for physics class," Evan closed the distance between them, "and it's, um, due tomorrow."  
  
"Nothing like the last minute," Kurt grinned. "What are you reporting on?"  
  
"'Theories on Instantaneous Travel,'" Evan read from the assignment sheet. "'Is it possible and how can it be done.' Your specialty, man."  
  
Kurt's mood changed in an instant. "Ah," he said, eyes flashing. "So you thought you'd skip the research and just copy down the whole history of my powers?"  
  
"I'm citing you as a primary source!" Evan defended himself. "You're the world's leading authority on the subject!"  
  
"Oh, that will go well," Kurt imitated the Physics teacher. "Mr. Daniels, are we talking about the same Kurt Wagner whom I teach in third period? How does he know so much about this subject?"  
  
"Fine, then just 'port me around a few times and I'll write it myself!" Evan cried desperately. "I need this grade, man!"  
  
"Look," Kurt sighed, "I really don't have time-"  
  
"No, see, that's the point!" Evan interrupted. "It's *instantaneous* travel! It doesn't take any time!"  
  
"Here's something for your report, Evan. Teleporting uses a *lot* of energy. Just taking you downstairs and back would have to be followed up with a massive eating spree. Unless you'd prefer to take the force of the trip?"  
  
Evan turned slightly green. "Uh, no. Come on, just help me out!"  
  
"Now *there's* the point," Kurt said forcefully. "I'll *help* you. I'm not going to do it *for* you."  
  
"Fine, okay," Evan schemed. "But if you give your powers to Rogue..."  
  
"Pay attention," Kurt said, trying to restrain himself from strangling Evan. "I. Am. Not. An. Experiment." He stalked through the nearest doorway and locked himself in.  
  
The room he now occupied happened to belong to Amara. She was absently igniting and extinguishing her left hand while watching Sam do her homework. Hearing the door slam, she turned around, nearly setting her bed on fire in the process.  
  
"Ah! I was looking for you! Or would have been, if I hadn't been *so* busy with schoolwork," Amara lamented. "I wish to share with you my great genius, for I have learned something new in order to make matters easier on your simple brain. I say unto you, du bist eine schlampig Zigeuner! Oh! Behold my brilliance!"  
  
Barely controlling an almost uncontrollable urge to introduce Amara to a swift and ugly death, Kurt crossed the room, vaulted the window-sill, landed easily on the grass below, and stalked off for some remote corner of the grounds.  
  
This particular remote corner of the grounds happened to contain a small fish pond. Kurt sat on a simple stone bench and thought nasty thoughts at the world in general. The dark clouds gathering on the western horizon mirrored his mood, and the mud made some rather interesting noises as it squelched up between his toes.  
  
**********  
  
Rogue sat on the window-seat and watched the clouds roll in. This was going to be nasty. Lightning flickered at the edge of the visible world, creating a lighting effect rather like watching a TV from the side.  
  
"The sky is still clear," Ororo noted, "but the pressure is dropping. The storm's moving fast."  
  
Scott, ever the practical one, wandered off to start closing windows. Rogue rather liked rough weather. It made a house very cozy, and had a way of getting people to sit and do something quietly entertaining together.  
  
"Anybody seen Kurt?" Kitty asked as she entered the den through one of the side walls.  
  
"Probably in some dark corner being mad at me," Evan said from his unique position across all parts of the couch.  
  
That got him a Look from his aunt.  
  
"I just asked him for help with my homework!" Evan explained, shifting into a position that was at least a shade more scholarly. "He got all righteous at me and walked off!"  
  
On the surface, it was a good story. Too bad he was thinking loudly about the details.  
  
"You're a jerk, Evan," Jean opined.  
  
Any reaction to that was masked by a particularly loud clap of thunder.  
  
"Gee-yaah!" Jamie interjected on his speedy way to the underside of a table.  
  
"I didn't do it," Ray said quickly, his hands still staticky from whatever he had not done.  
  
Ororo, bothered by the intensity of the storm and also developing a headache, took her leave.  
  
**********  
  
Fat rain drops splattered against the kitchen window. Inside, Logan and Rahne commiserated about the downsides of extra-sensitive hearing. Ororo entered and stared thoughtfully at the increasingly soggy out-of-doors.  
  
"Somethin' up, 'Ro?" If Logan was good for anything, it was getting to the point.  
  
"The storm is going to pass right over us," Ororo worried. "If lightning strikes anywhere on the property, it could short out our entire security system."  
  
"Like anyone's coming to attack us in this weather," Logan snorted.  
  
"Like anyone would be keen on fighting in the rain," Rahne countered.  
  
"Either way, it could take days to get everything back on-line," Ororo pointed out.  
  
"I hate logic," Logan growled.  
  
Jubilee, with the amazing power to Catch On Quickly, entered the room and the conversation at that point. "Can't you make it go away?" she asked the weather-witch.  
  
"Yes," Ororo glanced at the sky again, "but we need the rain."  
  
"Oh," Jubilee belatedly remembered the drought that had plagued large parts of the country for the past several months.  
  
"I could absorb the electricity," Ororo mused.  
  
"Like a human lightning rod?" Rahne asked.  
  
"Yes. I think it's our best chance. Would you girls run and get Ray? He's in the den."  
  
Rahne and Jubilee trotted off on their errand. Meanwhile, Logan had picked up the nearest non-girly magazine and begun reading it.  
  
"Any words of encouragement?" Ororo prompted him.  
  
He studied her for a moment before responding, "Don't kill yerself. Mortal woundin's okay."  
  
"Well, thank you *ever* so much. I shall try not to be dead next time I see you." 


	2. It Came as a Shock

Rahne and Jubilee hurried down the hall towards the den. The sounds of a childish argument greeted them as soon as they got through the door.  
  
"Did not!"  
  
"Did too!"  
  
"Did not!"  
  
"Did too!"  
  
Jubilee lifted the decorative cloth covering a small table. "Jamie honey?" she bent over. "What are you doing under the table?"  
  
"Ray chased me, and he made it be all thundery," Jamie sniffled.  
  
"Did not!"  
  
"Did too!"  
  
"They've been at it for ten minutes," Jean buried her face in her hands. "Ten. Minutes."  
  
"Aw, sweetie," Jubilee sat and took Jamie in a sisterly cuddle. "Ray can't make thunder. It's just a storm. It can't hurt you."  
  
"The sparking terror, on the other hand, is wanted outside," Rahne gave Ray a Glare.  
  
"Wha? Me? Jubilee just said I didn't do it!" Ray protested.  
  
"Ms. Munroe wants you," Rahne shrugged. "I think ye'd best scoot along now."  
  
Ray grumbled something about how the world was out to get him personally, and left.  
  
"Peace," Jean said, her eyes completely glazed over. "Quiet..."  
  
"She's scaring me," Kitty said, backing towards a corner.  
  
"Whatever," Evan mumbled, completely absorbed in some comic book.  
  
Rogue rolled her eyes. So much for quietly entertaining family togetherness.  
  
**********  
  
"I'm going to absorb the lightning," Storm explained. "If it's too strong, I'll channel some to you. Understood?"  
  
"Yeah, whatever," Ray bent his head against the driving rain. The wet was already seeping through his uniform.  
  
"When you're ready, draw the lightning," the weather-witch instructed, lifting gently into the air.  
  
Ray glanced up, cocked his hand like a gun, and fired a blue bolt of electricity skyward from his index finger. In response, purple spikes dove towards him like kamikaze planes. Storm spread her arms out, guiding the lightning into her body.  
  
"I can do this," she coached herself. "I can contain the power."  
  
Ray turned to see if anyone was watching him out the mansion windows. He saw Amara in her bedroom and grinned at her. She waved back.  
  
Storm let out a moan of agony and released the excess energy. Ray was hit in the side by a high-voltage lightning strike. Unprepared for the sudden charge, he acted on instinct, releasing a wave of electricity in all directions. Sparks flew everywhere. At their focal point, an overtaxed mutant passed out.  
  
**********  
  
It was raining, and Kurt didn't care. He let his feet draw lines in the mud and play tic-tac-toe with each other. Thunder rumbled, much closer than last time he'd heard it, but still he couldn't bear the thought of going back inside. Anyway, a little weather never hurt anyone.  
  
A blue lightning bolt shot up from somewhere in front of the mansion. Up? Whatever. A dozen or so forks of lightning sliced through the clouds in the normal direction. There was an odd zapping noise.  
  
And then everything was in slow motion. Blue arcs of electricity danced wildly across the landscape, striking everything. One in particular caught Kurt's attention. It came straight towards him, hung in mid-air for an impossible second, and fell into the fish pond. Voltage rocketed through the water, spread through the wet ground, and raced up through the soles of Kurt's feet.  
  
He was going to die.  
  
No. He was going to burn the energy before it killed him.  
  
*Bamf*  
  
**********  
  
*Blimph*  
  
Q: Am I alive?  
  
A: Yes.  
  
Q: Why am I not breathing?  
  
A: You're underwater.  
  
Kurt flagellated his limbs in some bad parody of a generic swimming-stroke, and by a minor miracle managed to reach the surface.  
  
Q: Where am I?  
  
A: I dunno.  
  
Q: What do I do now?  
  
A: Why are you asking me?  
  
Q: That wasn't an answer.  
  
A: That wasn't a question.  
  
Kurt used his eyes and found himself in the shadow of a small boat. He dog-paddled over, crawled up the hull, and peeked over the edge. There was some old guy, and a pile of junk.  
  
Q: What form am I in?  
  
A: Default.  
  
Q: Should I use the image inducer?  
  
A: I'd suggest it.  
  
Kurt prodded the button, but the little device stubbornly refused to do anything. "Shorted out," the soggy one said, a little too loudly.  
  
"Who's there?" shouted the old man, turning around.  
  
"Just some guy trying not to get slammed in Davey Jones' locker," Kurt called back.  
  
"No clinging to my boat. Yer either on, or yer off. Pick one."  
  
"I think I prefer on."  
  
"Get up here, then." The man began walking towards the railing.  
  
Kurt slid around to port. While the man was busy peering over the starboard side, he climbed onto the deck and dove under a sack.  
  
"I heard that!"  
  
Kurt didn't answer.  
  
"'Nother rule. I see everyone what rides on my boat."  
  
"Not this someone," Kurt burrowed deeper into the pile.  
  
"You c'n just get off then," the man shrugged.  
  
Kurt didn't answer that either.  
  
"I'm going to get lunch in one minute," the man marked the time on his watch. "You get out here before, or you're off my boat by the time I get back."  
  
He *was* hungry. He peeked half an eye out from under the sack.  
  
"Thirty seconds."  
  
Sigh. "Don't scream?" Kurt begged.  
  
"Ain't screamed at nothin' in thirty years."  
  
Kurt cautiously extracted himself from the junk heap and stood up. The man didn't scream. He didn't blink. He didn't even bother looking beyond his passenger's face. "Sit," he said, indicating a stool bolted to the deck.  
  
Kurt sat. The man disappeared into the cabin and soon came back with the sort of food that could sit on a shelf for ten years and still be perfectly fine. After spreading it on the table (also bolted down), he offered his hand. "Malkus Piccolo," he introduced himself. "World traveler."  
  
"Kurt Wagner," said the owner of that name, after a brief handshake. "Mutant freak-boy."  
  
"You always this dramatic?" Malkus glanced sideways at his guest while reaching for something to eat.  
  
"Wouldn't you be?" Kurt sighed, artfully filling his plate to capacity. "I mean, if you were blue and furry and had a tail and all."  
  
"No," Malkus apparently had no rules against talking with one's mouth full. "Kinda wish I were."  
  
Kurt choked on a biscuit, and not because it was dryer than Arizona air. "*Why*?" he coughed.  
  
"I'm a seeker of the unusual," Malkus gestured grandly with a fork. "I seen things like you wouldn't believe. Trouble is, it's mighty near impossible for ordinary men to get near the wee folk."  
  
Kurt chewed thoughtfully, and watched Malkus watching him. Suddenly, two thoughts connected in his head. "Wait a minute!" he exclaimed. "I am *not* an elf!"  
  
Malkus blinked.  
  
"Or a leprechaun," Kurt started counting off digits, "Or a gnome, or a fairy, or any other sort of little person."  
  
"If you say so," the traveler shrugged.  
  
"You don't believe me."  
  
"I'll take yer word fer what y'are," Malkus scraped idly at his plate. "'S just not very interesting."  
  
"Oh yeah," Kurt rolled his eyes. "You could find a dozen people on the street just like me."  
  
"If y'knew where t'look."  
  
"Who *are* you?" The food no longer seemed of any importance.  
  
"Malkus Piccolo, world traveler."  
  
Kurt forgot to blink for quite a long time.  
  
"Okay," he admitted finally. "I did know some fairies back home. They were fooled too."  
  
"Where y'from?" Malkus inquired.  
  
"Germany."  
  
"Coast?"  
  
"Mountains."  
  
They watched the waves in silence for a bit.  
  
"Where y'bound for?"  
  
"Anywhere away from there," Kurt waved his hand in the general direction of the American continent.  
  
"Fancy a visit to Atlantis?"  
  
"You're kidding me."  
  
"You have trust issues."  
  
"Give me a break. *Atlantis*?"  
  
"'S amazing what they've built underwater there."  
  
"You've *been* there?" Kurt boggled.  
  
"Couple times. Not one of my favorite places."  
  
"Dare I ask where you like to go?"  
  
"Hm. There's a whole island of people where not a one of 'em's got a single opinion in his head," Malkus said thoughtfully. "'S a riot to ask one of 'im what his favorite color is."  
  
Kurt's brain nearly blew a fuse trying to comprehend a world with no opinions.  
  
"Well, Atlantis it is then," Malkus got up and began clearing the leftovers.  
  
"Atlantis it is," Kurt agreed.  
  
And they spent many days sailing quite companionably across the world's ocean. 


	3. Seek and Destroy

Ray woke up in the infirmary with a sort of dull ache everywhere.  
  
"Good morning, sir," Mr. McCoy greeted him, without looking up from his book.  
  
How did he *do* that?  
  
"How do you feel?"  
  
Ray consulted with a few of his vital organs. "Not too bad," he answered. "Actually, I feel pretty good. Whoa...quick, give me something to blow up."  
  
Hank folded a hasty paper airplane and sailed it across the room. Ray shot a fat lightning bolt at it. When the smoke cleared, there was nothing left to hit the floor.  
  
"Goodness," Hank fumbled for another target. "Here, recharge my cell phone."  
  
Ray slipped off the case cover and dumped the batteries into his hand. His closed fist glowed bright blue for a moment. He put the phone back together and returned it to its owner.  
  
On the display, the power meter was going crazy. While Hank boggled, Ray ripped off the blankets and began zapping his toes.  
  
The door cracked open, and Evan poked his head in. "How's Auntie O?" he inquired.  
  
Hank crossed the room to the other bed, where Ororo was lying with an ice pack on her forehead. "Should be coming around any minute," he reported.  
  
"Can I come in and sit?" Evan sidled around the door.  
  
"Of course. And you," Hank pointed to Ray, who had begun systematically frying a shelf-ful of stuffed animals, "get out before you destroy something of importance."  
  
**********  
  
"Evan!" Kitty pestered him for the millionth time. "What did you *say* to him?"  
  
Evan ignored her and helped himself to some pancakes.  
  
"Jeeean!" Kitty whined.  
  
"Kitty," Rogue said tiredly, "could you *try* to not be such a pain at this hour of the morning?"  
  
"He *has* been missing for three days," Scott commented. "The kids at school have started asking about him."  
  
"It's not like him to be grouchy that long," Jean said. "Who saw him last?"  
  
"I saw him Sunday night," Sam said thoughtfully. "In Amara's room. He jumped out the window."  
  
"He *what*?" Kitty screeched. "From the second floor?"  
  
"Indoor voices, Kitty," Jamie reprimanded her.  
  
"But-"  
  
"He can get away with that," Bobby pointed out. "Lucky guy."  
  
Kitty couldn't help staring at the empty seat. Since Kurt's exceptionally high breakfast requirements were also absent, the table had much less food than usual. Not to mention that the mansion had been so quiet without him always popping up in corners.  
  
Well, taking care of himself was one of Kurt's skills. He'd come back when he felt like it.  
  
**********  
  
"That's not going to fit me," Kurt said, in reference to the pressurized diving suit hanging on the rack before him.  
  
"No?" Malkus was already halfway into the suit's twin. "Why not?"  
  
"One, the gloves won't fit," Kurt counted off the problems. "Two, the boots won't fit. Three, there's no place for my tail."  
  
Malkus paused with one arm partway through the sleeve, and finally bothered to look Kurt over properly. "Too bad about that," was his comment.  
  
Kurt sighed and sat on a handy box. He had adapted quickly to the traveling lifestyle, happily losing track of time and date, watching as the green pushpin marched across the ancient map in the control room, leaving a trail of tiny holes behind it. But he had been looking forward to getting off the boat for a while.  
  
"Take the raft," Malkus suggested. "There's an island not far east of here." He put his helmet on and clanked out of the room.  
  
Kurt spent some time feeling sorry for himself, lamenting the things he couldn't do, and then he got over it and went to untie the lifeboat.  
  
There was indeed a little island not far from the ship. Kurt dragged the boat ashore, noting that the trees covered the island so thoroughly that there was hardly any beach. He wandered into the shade, not going anywhere in particular. Birds in brilliant shades of red and yellow captured his attention for a while.  
  
Kurt hadn't even noticed how quiet it was until he heard something crashing through the underbrush. Only humans could make *that* much noise. Remembering that he was not in possession of a working holowatch, he scurried up a tree.  
  
Three men appeared out of the foliage and searched around the area. They moved rocks, peeked around bushes, and generally scouted out every possible hiding place. For what, Kurt didn't know.  
Just when they seemed to be thinking about leaving, one of them looked up, blinked, shouted something, and pointed at him. The other two started staring at him and waving their arms.  
  
For hiding, trees are good. Once you've been spotted, they're a dead end. Kurt leaped from his perch and hit the ground running. Not knowing the geography of the island was a major strike against him. Speed was in his favor. He bounded along, ducking branches and leaping thorn-bushes without breaking his stride. There was yelling behind him, and suddenly a group of people in front of him.  
  
Kurt slammed on all the brakes and scrambled backwards. With absolutely no idea where anything was, teleporting was not an option. He had nearly gotten enough traction to start running in the opposite direction when strong hands grabbed him by all available body parts and hoisted him into a wagon.  
  
Really, it was more like a cart, with an awning and a huge amount of fluffy pillows. Before Kurt knew what was happening, the contraption was rattling off along a well-worn trail through the trees. 


	4. Where Kurt Goes When He's Gone

"This is getting ridiculous," Scott declared as he left the school building. "He isn't *anywhere*."  
  
"Give it a rest, Scott," Jean soothed. "You know he has to be *some*where."  
  
"He sure isn't on Institute grounds," Scott worried. "We looked. Even Logan couldn't find him."  
  
"And it isn't like him to miss school if he doesn't have to," Kitty joined them in the school yard.  
  
"That may be the scariest thing about him," Evan joked.  
  
The others just glared at him. He hadn't been permitted to say much of anything since Kurt's disappearance.  
  
"Okay," Jean conceded. "I haven't sensed him lately. But I know he's getting better at shielding. What?" she added, noticing that Scott suddenly looked very panicky.  
  
"D'you think he could've gotten stuck in the Middleverse again?" he asked loudly.  
  
Jean glanced around calmly. "Everyone doesn't need to know about that," she reminded him.  
  
"The original gizmo got totalled," Kitty recalled. "And Forge keeps the new one under majorly heavy security."  
  
"Since when does security mean anything to Kurt?" Scott countered.  
  
"What, you think he sent *himself* to the Middleverse?" Jean furrowed her brow. "What kind of sense does that make?"  
  
"I think Scott's come down with a case of fuzzy logic, brought on by stress and an oversize sense of responsibility," Kitty diagnosed.  
  
"Everything Kurt thinks is fuzzy logic," Evan cracked.  
  
"Fine," Scott sighed. "Let's go home. You can walk," he growled at Evan, "with Rogue." He pointed to a figure who had just appeared from a side entrance.  
  
"Aww, man!" That was as far as Evan got, since no one was interested in standing around while he voiced his grievances.  
  
**********  
  
"Hey!" Kurt said to the cart-pusher nearest him. "Where are we going? Do you speak English?"  
  
No answer.  
  
"Sie sprechen Deutsche? Tu parli italiano? Parlez-vous francais?"  
  
The man didn't respond to any of Kurt's attempts. He just marched along at a truly remarkable speed.  
  
Eventually they reached a small clearing. A hundred pairs of hands hoisted Kurt from his ride. He found himself carried along the tide of the crowd and borne up a short flight of steps onto a raised platform. Before he knew it, he was seated in something that looked suspiciously like a throne. Everyone else scuttled off the platform and stood in almost-rows before him, waving their arms in the air.  
  
Kurt quickly took stock of the situation. Nothing was on fire at the moment, and there was no pyre waiting for him. The natives weren't carrying anything resembling a weapon. But then, they weren't bringing him huge baskets of exotic foods either. Oh wait, yes they were.  
  
Two very exotic young ladies offered him an ample serving of some fruit he'd never seen before. It was good though.  
  
"Who are you?" Kurt asked after sampling some. "Che cos'e questa frutta? Wo bin ich?"  
  
The girls just giggled at him.  
  
"I hate language barriers," Kurt sighed.  
  
The girls faded into the background as someone in a long purple robe climbed the steps. "I am Erti," he introduced himself. "The Gantil foretold of your coming."  
  
Instantly, Kurt was mobbed by three other men in purple robes of a slightly lighter hue. They described circles around him, remarking on his various physical attributes.  
  
"The extra limb indicates that the bounty will be great!" one declared.  
  
"The paucity of digits suggests that our time of plenty will be short," another said.  
  
"The quadrupedal movement shows that fortune will fall equally on everyone," the third divined.  
  
The youngest man picked up Kurt's tail and examined it closely.  
  
"That's mine," Kurt said defensively, snatching it back.  
  
Another purple person slapped the younger one on the wrist. "You know better than that," he chided.  
  
"Allow me to introduce the Three Listeners," Erti spoke up. "Fenor, Kyan, and Takren."  
  
Kurt watched them warily. "What do you want from me?" he asked.  
  
"You are a Messenger," Erti explained. "What do you bring for us?"  
  
"I'm just a kid," Kurt curled into a corner of the seat. "I'm traveling. I don't know anything."  
  
"Tell us something!" Takren, the young one, demanded.  
  
"Er..." Kurt cast about his mind for something wise to say. "May mishto les o thud katar i gurumni kai tordjol."  
  
The Listeners quickly formed a huddle to discuss the meaning of the mystic statement. The crowd cheered.  
  
"Would you mind telling me where I am?" Kurt asked again.  
  
Erti swept his robe in a grand arc. "I welcome you to the island of Vecchia Roma."  
  
**********  
  
A/N: Chapter 1 included the requisite disclaimer. Now, I would like to insert a claimer. Vecchia Roma, the four purple people, and the Gantil belong to me. Yay!  
As for Kurt's statement of infinite wisdom, it's a Romani proverb. "It is easier to milk a cow that stands still." 


	5. No Place Like Home

"Um, hi," Kitty said nervously. "Can I leave this here?"  
  
Kitty didn't like spending time in the school office. She also didn't like being glared at by the annoying old secretary.  
  
"It's for Principal Kelly," Kitty offered the business-size envelope.  
  
The secretary, whose nameplate proclaimed her to be Nora Bixby, took the letter and added it to a pile.  
  
"Oookay," Kitty backed up a step. "I'll just...be going to class then." Ms. Bixby's cold gaze chased her out the door.  
  
The letter did indeed make it to the principal's desk. He broke the seal with a cheap letter-opener and skimmed over it.  
  
"Principal Kelly,  
  
Kurt Wagner will need to be excused from classes for an indefinite period of time, as he seems to have run away. He will make up all missed work when he returns.  
  
Professor C. Xavier"  
  
Good. One less trouble-making Institute kid to worry about. With luck, he wouldn't be back before the end of the year. No, wait...then he'd have to attend summer school. Darn.  
  
He just couldn't win.  
  
**********  
  
If Kurt's eyes had bugged out any further, he would have fallen off the chair. "*Vecchia* Roma?" he coughed, when he had recovered the use of his voice.  
  
"He remembers his mission!" Fenor exclaimed.  
  
"Tell me," Kurt ignored the outburst, directing his comment towards Erti. "Are there any other islands around here?"  
  
"There's one north of here," Erti said sourly. "Nova Roma. We used to all live here as one people, but then they took an idea into their head that white was the most important color, and that mortals could wear it. After the War of the Rainbow, they split into their own country. Why do you ask?"  
  
"Can you tell us something about our shared destiny?" Kyan asked hopefully.  
  
"No! I'm not a prophet!" Kurt snapped. "I just happen to know their princess. She insults me regularly."  
  
"Isn't that just like the Nova Romans!" Kyan shouted angrily.  
  
"Disparaging our Messenger!" Fenor added.  
  
"We won't stand for it!" Takren concluded.  
  
"Explain to me again what I'm doing here," Kurt implored.  
  
"Come and I shall show you," Erti gestured to a path through the trees.  
  
Kurt scooched sideways out of his chair, still watchful of the Listeners, and followed Erti.  
  
"Here on Vecchia Roma," Erti began, "we know that the one true color is blue. The sea provides for us in our earthly life, and the sky takes us when we are done in this world."  
  
"I think I'm beginning to get it," Kurt nodded.  
  
The trail ended abruptly in an enormous clearing. It was easily a mile wide. Scattered through it were intricately carved wooden posts in seemingly random positions, but all well away from the tree line.  
  
"This is the Gantil," Erti explained in the manner of a tour guide. "The Listeners record the pattern of shadows at certain times of the day, and interpret their meaning. Several days ago the pillars predicted that a very important Messenger would come, signaling the start of a great and prosperous time for our island."  
  
"And that's me," Kurt inferred.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"I'm a nobody from America," Kurt insisted again. "I own hardly anything. I have no money. I could eat a middle-class family out of house and home. I don't even have a change of clothes with me."  
  
"You have temporary amnesia," Erti said dismissively. "You must have had a hard journey."  
  
"I took a boat."  
  
"Naturally the ocean would figure prominently in your history."  
  
"No! I'm just - agh!" Kurt fell to his knees and clutched his head.  
  
"You remember something?" Erti prompted.  
  
"Yes. I remember I have to go home now," Kurt got up and started walking in the general direction of where he thought he had left his boat.  
  
"You're already home," Erti said warmly.  
  
The Listeners appeared out of nowhere, surrounded Kurt, and forcibly escorted him back towards the village. 


	6. Homebound

A/N: Thanks to everyone who's been reviewing! Now on with the story. :)  
  
*Ding dong*  
  
Kitty poked her head out of the kitchen. Through the doorway, of course, since anybody could be outside.  
  
The person outside happened to be a short man in fancy clothes involving far too many colors, in Kitty's humble opinion. She crossed the foyer and opened the big glass door.  
  
"Message for the Princess," the visitor said, holding up a scroll.  
  
"Princess?" Kitty stared at him stupidly. "Oh, you mean Amara!"  
  
The man cringed at this expression of familiarity from the American plebeian.  
  
"Like, um, come in," Kitty held the door open. "Sit, or something."  
  
He stood stiffly in the middle of the room.  
  
"Okay, whatever," Kitty shrugged, and went off to find Amara. Her first guess was the TV room. She was right.  
  
"Hey Amara!" Kitty shouted over the din of the radio. "You have...er...mail."  
  
Amara glared at the interruption, turned off the music, and exited, leaving Kitty's ears ringing in the silence.  
  
"Stupid Americans," Amara grumbled as she traversed the hallway. "No patience for anything. Think a piece of mail won't wait for - oh! *Stupid* Americans! Who's it from?"  
  
This last was directed to the messenger. "His Highness, King Tikad of Nova Roma," he replied.  
  
"Read it," the Princess ordered.  
  
The messenger unrolled the parchment and cleared his throat. "My dearest Amara," he began. "I must request your presence at home as soon as possible. Our old adversaries, the Vecchia Romans, have declared war on us once again. At this time, our people need the full support of their royal family. I look forward to seeing you. With love, your father."  
  
"Stupid Vecchia Romans," Amara growled.  
  
"Shall I take a message back?" the man asked.  
  
"No. I'd get there before you did. Wait here," Amara instructed. She disappeared into a side hall and let herself into the Professor's study.  
  
"I shall require use of the X-Jet," she informed him, "and the services of someone capable of flying it."  
  
Xavier blinked at her and skimmed the rest of the story out of her surface thoughts. "Are you sure that's wise? You could easily destroy your own country if you lost your temper."  
  
"I'm getting better about that," Amara crossed her arms.  
  
"True. But you *do* need new schoolbooks quite often."  
  
"Well, I have to go," Amara said. "My father orders it."  
  
"Your safety is-"  
  
"In jeopardy if you don't give me what I've asked for. I'll fly the jet myself if I have to."  
  
"Amara, you can't-"  
  
"I very well can! And I will!" Amara turned and stormed out.  
  
"Logan," the Professor said via telepathy. "Go to the X-Jet. Now."  
  
"On it," came the psychic reply.  
  
Amara strode through the foyer again on her way to the back elevator. "Come," she said shortly.  
  
The messenger obediently followed her through the maze of passageways leading to the hangar. There, they discovered Logan already doing pre-flight checks in the cockpit.  
  
"Where to?" he asked as his two passengers strapped into the back seats.  
  
"Nova Roma," Amara replied. "And step on it, as you Americans say."  
  
"I'm *Canadian*," Logan growled.  
  
"*Stupid* Westerners."  
  
**********  
  
The building consisted of only one room, but it dwarfed Kurt's accomodations back at the Institute. The space was so vast and empty that he couldn't even properly judge how big it really was.  
  
It was quite nice, though. Impeccably clean, and with a very comfortable-looking pillow-bed in one corner. Shame he wouldn't have a chance to use it. There were many things Kurt hoped to do in life, but being the Chosen One for some cultish religion was not one of them.  
  
There were no windows, but Kurt knew it was beginning to get dark. Later he would make his escape. For the time, he entertained himself by challenging imaginary enemies to pillow fights and by inventing new tumbling passes. What else was he to do with a large open space?  
  
When he guessed it was about midnight, he padded to the door and listened. The island was remarkably silent, at least compared to the unceasing noise of the States. Slowly Kurt worked the knob and let himself out.  
  
His unerring sense of direction wormed through the night, feeling for the boat. There. West and slightly south. To be on the safe side, Kurt took a long route around the village. Not that he minded walking in the silvery light of the half-moon.  
  
When he reached the raft, he was almost sorry to be leaving. The island would have been a lovely place to stay for a while, if only he'd been allowed to enjoy it properly.  
  
"Ah, well," Kurt sighed. "Another time, another place." He climbed into the boat, pushed off from the shore, and glided gently towards the ship.  
  
The tide was in his favor, and within a few minutes he had clambered back onto the deck. A quick search revealed that Malkus had not yet returned. Kurt rummaged through the drawers of the antique desk, and came up with a scrap of paper and a pencil that would not have survived another sharpening.  
  
"It's time for me to go home," he scrawled. "Thanks for everything. Sail on, mein Freund."  
  
He pinned the note to the map with the green tack, and left the cabin. The door closed behind him with a creak and a bang.  
  
**********  
  
After getting a look at Amara's previous place of residence, Logan could understand why she had such a low opinion of Bayville. The Princess, having seen the palace interior plenty of times before, headed straight for her father's suite.  
  
Tikad was pacing the richly-appointed room. "This is what you wear in America?" he said by way of greeting.  
  
"Americans have no respect for royalty," Amara sighed. "Anything much different from this," she indicated her clothes, "gets you beat up in the schoolyard."  
  
"As soon as you're done at that Institute..." Tikad waved his finger menacingly. "Later. Look at this."  
  
He handed her another scroll. Amara quickly unfurled it and scanned the ornate script. "Our Messenger has gone missing," read the important bit. "Return him immediately or one thousand men will attack your island at sunrise."  
  
"Their who?" Amara reread the message.  
  
"Something to do with their ridiculous old-fashioned religion," Tikad resumed pacing. "I don't have him."  
  
"Fools," Amara growled. Her temper flared, and so did her hands.  
  
"Easy on the pyrotechnics, Smoky," Logan rumbled from the corner.  
  
Amara extinguished herself just before her fist made contact with a wooden desk. Their was silence as her other hand clenched spasmadically. "I'm going to go change," she said in a voice that was not to be argued with.  
  
"Lovely daughter you've got," Logan commented after Amara's stormy exit. 


	7. Connected

There was quite a lot of water between Vecchia Roma and the mainland, and Kurt knew very little about handling boats. He did, however, know a few things about getting places. After spending three years in a small cage, he'd decided it was only fair that he get to see a bit of the world, and had devoted the next two years of his life to seeing Europe by night and from shadowy corners.  
  
Kurt guided his boat slightly northward, since he didn't particularly want to begin a tour of Africa. The moon was getting low when he finally bumped into a beach. The first thing was to find a town. That was easy enough, since the beach seemed to be the focal point of a resort. Now, to get to a public computer.  
  
Kurt wandered the empty streets, keeping strictly to the shadows, peering into every shop window. Soon he passed a nondescript building with large double doors. "La Biblioteca", read the sign above them.  
  
Kurt tunneled his hands around his eyes and looked through the small window. Plenty of empty spots. *Bamf*  
  
The library was not big, and the media corner was not hard to find. Kurt fired up a computer and waited for it to boot.  
  
**********  
  
Kitty was lonely. People seemed to be leaving the mansion left and right. She sat in her swirly computer chair and signed onto instant messenger, hoping for someone interesting to chat with.  
  
An incoming message got onto her screen even before her buddy list fully loaded.  
  
Bamf: Kitty!  
Sprite: Kurt??  
Bamf: Tell Evan to get on.  
Sprite: Where are you? Why?  
  
There was a long pause. Even *Kurt* didn't type *that* slowly. He was obviously refusing to answer.  
  
Kitty got up and poked her head through the wall. Evan was working on something at his desk. When he was hailed by a head sticking out of his Festering Boils poster, he promptly fell off his chair.  
  
"Kitty!" he yelled from his awkward position on the floor. "Don't *do* that!"  
  
"Just get on instant messenger!" she ordered.  
  
Evan knew better than to mess with girls when they used *that* voice. He picked up his chair and flipped on the monitor. Kitty removed herself from his wall. There was another message on her screen.  
  
You've been invited to chatroom "Just Come". Join? Yes/No  
  
Kitty hurriedly hit the enter key and waited for the new window to load.  
  
Bamf: Hi  
Sprite: Talk to me, Kurt!!!  
Bamf: ...  
NYStreetSkater has entered the room.  
NYStreetSkater: what's this?  
Bamf: I'm sorry Evan :(  
NYStreetSkater: K-man?  
Sprite: You...what?  
NYStreetSkater: for what?  
Bamf: I shouldn't have gotten mad at you. Forgive me?  
NYStreetSkater: it's cool. I did a dumb thing  
Sprite: Tell me what happened!!  
Bamf: Don't be nosy, Kitty  
ShadesOfRed has entered the room.  
Sprite: *growls*  
Bamf: About time you showed up!  
ShadesOfRed: Kurt?  
Bamf: Have you guys all forgotten me already?  
ShadesOfRed: Where are you?  
Sprite: We all miss you!  
Bamf: Um...either Spain or Portugal  
NYStreetSkater: did you run away cuz of me?  
Sprite: How'd you get there?  
Bamf: I didn't run away  
Bamf: boat  
ShadesOfRed: Is this a stupid joke, Kurt?  
Sprite: A boat, he says.  
Bamf: No!  
Bamf: a boat  
NYStreetSkater: are you coming home?  
ShadesOfRed: Yes, we've established the boat.  
Bamf: I'm trying to  
Sprite: But...a boat?? From where?  
ShadesOfRed: Kitty, it's not important!  
NYStreetSkater: can't you get a boat back?  
Bamf: long story short. I sorta ported randomly, found a boat, ran across Amara's island's neighbor, they were weird, I ran away.  
Bamf: boat back=no Got no money  
ShadesOfRed: Where'd you get a computer?  
Sprite: He sorta ported randomly.  
Bamf: public library  
NYStreetSkater: what's your problem, Kitty?  
Bamf: Can you guys send the x-jet or something?  
ShadesOfRed: Lay off, Kitty.  
Sprite: *is completely disgusted*  
Sprite: X-jet's already out.  
NYStreetSkater: it is?  
ShadesOfRed: Logan and Amara went somewhere.  
Bamf: great...  
Sprite: Amara went home. They're having a war, or something. Professor was brief about it.  
NYStreetSkater: Amara's skipping finals?  
Bamf: oh no...  
Bamf: Ach! How much school have I missed?  
Sprite: What?  
ShadesOfRed: A week. Work's piling up.  
Bamf: They're warring over me...  
Sprite: They're warring over you.  
ShadesOfRed: What?  
NYStreetSkater: Kitty, pretend you're understanding the conversation, hey?  
Bamf: It never does any good to speak badly of people.  
Sprite: Well *sorry* if I can't understand a thing you *guys* are rambling about.  
ShadesOfRed: Kurt? You're scaring me. Don't do anything stupid.  
Bamf: I gotta go  
NYStreetSkater: you doing something illegal, man?  
Sprite: Is it me, or is Kurt weirder than usual?  
Bamf: No! Watch's broken. Haven't slept in 19 hours. Things to do. Don't bother coming for me. Bye.  
Bamf has left the room.  
ShadesOfRed: Kitty!  
Sprite: Whoa...  
NYStreetSkater: did that really just happen?  
ShadesOfRed: I'm going to get the Professor.  
ShadesOfRed has left the room.  
Sprite has left the room.  
NYStreetSkater: that *did* just happen  
NYStreetSkater has left the room.  
  
**********  
  
Kurt shut down the computer, and carefully put everything back the way he'd found it before teleporting out to the street. He hurried down to the beach and climbed back into his boat. He was exhausted, but summoned his last scraps of energy to fight the waves. Had to get back to the island before something stupidly unnecessary happened...  
  
As Vecchia Roma loomed into view on the western horizon, the sky glowed blue at Kurt's back, as if the sun was thinking about rising but hadn't quite gotten there yet. Kurt's arms ached, but he pushed forward until the raft's bottom ground against the sand. Silently repeating a mind-over-matter mantra, he forced his limbs to show a little hustle, and made his way towards the village.  
  
People were milling aimlessly, exchanging mostly untrue news. There was quite a large concentration of men in armor. Erti and the Listeners were having a heated discussion outside the building where Kurt had spent the first part of the night.  
  
Kurt pushed through the crowd and tugged on Erti's sleeve. "What are you doing?" he demanded.  
  
"What happened?" Erti asked anxiously. "Are you all right?"  
  
"I had some...business to attend to," Kurt replied. "My sources tell me you're having a war."  
  
"Of course," Erti nodded. "We thought the Nova Romans kidnapped you."  
  
"Well, they didn't," Kurt said patiently.  
  
"Their princess still insulted you," Fenor joined in. "We can't let them get away with that!"  
  
"No!" Kurt subdued the urge to slap both of them across their faces. "You can't have a war over that!"  
  
"Sure we can!" Takren said enthusiastically. "It's our destiny!"  
  
"Look," Kurt sighed. "This is between me and Amara. You," he pointed to Erti, "come with me and we'll sort this out."  
  
The four men looked at each other. "The Messenger orders it," Kyan said at last. "Who are we to argue?"  
  
"Indeed," Erti said. "Follow me. Tell the men to stand ready," he instructed Kurt and Fenor, respectively.  
  
Kurt dragged himself to the north side of the island, where a grand ship was waiting. Actually, it was large and wooden, and looked like something that would have been floating around in the 1600s. Kurt didn't have the energy to care. 


	8. Contact

A/N: What, no reviews for Chapter 7? I know you're out there! *crickets chirp* Fine, be that way. I'm writing the story anyway because *I* want to know how it ends. There's still a few chapters to go. Enough rambling. Story!  
  
**********  
  
Scott took the stairs two at a time on his way to the study. He knocked, but didn't wait for an answer.  
  
"Kurt's in trouble," he blurted. "He found a computer, and he was talking to us, and I think he's going to go try to stop a war."  
  
Xavier looked at him calmly. "Did he say where he was?"  
  
"Er..." Scott thought back. "He said Spain or Portugal. Can you find him?"  
  
"I'm afraid I don't do trans-Atlantic telepathy. Did you save your conversation?"  
  
"Uh..." Stupid, stupid, stupid, Scott kicked himself. "I didn't think of that. Maybe Kitty or Evan still has it open? Could you-"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Stop *doing* that!"  
  
The Professor closed his eyes and reached telepathically for his two youngest students. "Kitty, Evan," he hailed them. "Do either of you still have your conversation with Kurt open?"  
  
"...oops," came Kitty's voice.  
  
"I have it!" Evan answered.  
  
"Don't close it," Xavier instructed. "Evan has it," he said out loud.  
  
For the most part, the Institute's inhabitants used the front stairway. The Professor relied on the main elevator. Having a physical body was more trouble than it was worth, sometimes.  
  
Evan's door was open. He had just finished re-reading the chat, and had typed "that *did* just happen" to no one in particular. He scrolled to the top of the screen and dragged his chair out of the way so the Professor could look.  
  
"Interesting," he said when he was done.  
  
"Can we reach him?" Scott asked anxiously.  
  
"Not unless he stops at another computer."  
  
Evan boggled. Having grown up in the era of e-mail, fax machines, and cell phones, he'd had no idea that it was still possible to go somewhere and be completely out of contact.  
  
"Isn't there *something* we can do?" Scott pressed.  
  
"Without knowing where he's going, or even exactly where he started from, no." Xavier rotated his chair and guided it towards the doorway. Scott opened and closed his mouth a few times, then strode after him. Evan exited the chatroom and went back to his work.  
  
**********  
  
Amara felt much better after changing into her royal garb. An enormous white diamond, suspended from an ornate silver circlet, hung heavily against her forehead. Her lace-trimmed white dress flowed around her ankles as she walked back towards her father's chamber.  
  
Logan passed her, heading the opposite direction down the hallway. "Where do you keep the phone?" he asked. "I need t'call Charles."  
  
"We don't *have* a phone," Amara said in exasperation. "There's no one to call."  
  
"No friends?" Logan raised an eyebrow. "No foreign diplomats?"  
  
"Nobody here knows anyone outside of the island. And if they want to talk to us, they can very well come and visit."  
  
"Do you have any idea how much this will cost on my cell phone plan?" Logan grumbled.  
  
"Frankly, I don't care," Amara continued on her way, her white-sandaled feet making no noise on the deep carpeting.  
  
"Pst," came a sharp hiss from her right. The Nova Roman Princess obeyed human nature and looked out the window.  
  
"Hi," said a blue form clinging to her wall.  
  
"What *are* you doing, peasant?" Amara demanded.  
  
"Trying to get an audience with your dad," Kurt shifted his footholds, though it looked a little odd, since he hadn't really had any in the first place. "I didn't think we'd be welcome at the front door."  
  
"Since when do *peasants* use the royal We?" Amara huffed.  
  
"Er. No. I have this, um, guy," Kurt explained. "Do you have another entrance? He doesn't climb."  
  
Amara leaned out the window. "Oh," she said in disgust. "*Him*. Back door." She gestured vaguely around an exterior corner.  
  
Sometime within that brief moment, Kurt had managed to reach the more prestigious side of the window. "D'you have anything to eat?" he asked hopefully. "I'm starved."  
  
"I'll see if I can get you some scraps," Amara said, with all the warmth of a Martian night.  
  
"Sehr gut," Kurt nodded, surveying the hall. "Herr Logan!"  
  
"Just a minute, Smo- What the? Hold on, Charles," Logan lowered the tiny phone. "Where'd you come from?"  
  
"Long story," Kurt sighed, slumping into a corner.  
  
"Don't start, I'm paying per minute," Logan brought the phone back to his ear. "Elf just showed up. I'll call you back." He pressed an impossibly small button and shoved the device into his pocket. "Talk," he ordered.  
  
Kurt began relating his tale, starting with the fish pond and the strange bouncing lightning. "That was Sparky's fault," Logan interrupted. "'Ro had some brilliant plan to catch the electricity before it shorted out the security system. Shouldn't-a trusted the kid with that sort of thing."  
  
"I'll be sure to thank him when I get home," Kurt mumbled, leaning his head back and closing his eyes.  
  
"Peasant!" Amara said, reappearing with a plate of not-quite-stale bread and almost-warm mystery meat. "Eat."  
  
"Mm," Kurt was already attacking the food. "Wunderbar. Dankeschoen."  
  
"And then?" Logan prompted.  
  
"Um," Kurt gestured with a piece of crust until he was able to swallow. "After I 'ported, I got onto this boat with a really nice sailor-guy, who let me off at Vecchia Roma."  
  
"Worthless little dirt pile south of here," Amara filled in.  
  
"That reminds me," Kurt took a short pause from his binge. "Where's Erti?"  
  
"Speaking to my father," Amara said, wordlessly expressing her opinion that Erti was worth about as much as half of a dead slug.  
  
"So tell me," Kurt gently prodded the meat. "What's with Nova Roma and white?"  
  
"Anyone who's studied any science knows that white is the product of all other colors mixed together," Amara explained in a condescending tone. "So obviously, white must be better than any other single color."  
  
"Makes sense," Kurt said diplomatically.  
  
"Back to the point, Elf," Logan broke in.  
  
"Yes. So, the Vecchia Romans thought I was some kind of prophet," Kurt continued. "And I accidently said something bad about Amara, which they took as a sort of divine green-light to start a war." Having finished the meat, he sopped up the drippings with the last piece of bread.  
  
"Well, I imagine we'll be wanted." Amara, feeling she'd been delayed long enough, led the way to her father's chamber. 


	9. I'm Right, You're Wrong

*Riiiiing*  
  
Bobby skidded into the kitchen, grabbed the phone out of the cradle, nearly dropped it, and finally managed to get it into proper listening position.  
  
"Poice headquarters, we've got you surrounded!" he said cheerfully. "You have two minutes to release the hostages before we're forced to send in a SWAT team."  
  
"Get off the phone, Popsicle," came Logan's distance-distorted voice. "I need to talk to the Prof."  
  
"Aww," Bobby whined. "You're so boring, you-"  
  
"When I get home," Logan threatened, "I'm gonna-"  
  
"Going!" Bobby delivered the wireless to the Professor, with speed.  
  
"Xavier Institute," he answered formally.  
  
"Mornin', Charles," Logan said. "Look, this is a bad idea. Smoky hasn't had enough training. She shouldn't be outta the mansion."  
  
"Real-world experience is vital to the program," Xavier lectured. "But more importantly, we've heard from Kurt. He seemed quite stresed. I think-"  
  
"Make it quick," Logan interrupted. "I'm on my cell, and long distance costs a fortune."  
  
"Yes," Xavier gathered the important points in his mind. "Kurt seems to be in your general area. He believes the war is his fault. I'm afraid he's going to do something unwise."  
  
"Just like him, to solve everyone else's problems first," Logan sighed.  
  
"Which is why I want you to find him before he gets any deeper into trouble."  
  
"I'm a little busy trying to make sure Smoky doesn't cause too much property damage."  
  
"Perhaps tonight-" Xavier suggested.  
  
"Just a minute, Smo- What the? Hold on, Charles," Logan's voice lowered in volume at this point, as if he had put the phone down. "Where'd you come from?" There was some more muffled dialogue before Logan returned to his original conversation. "Elf just showed up. I'll call you back," he said shortly, and the connection closed.  
  
Xavier put the phone down thoughtfully. Well, at least all his students were in the same place now. He trusted Logan to bring them home safely.  
  
**********  
  
Kurt trotted along behind Amara. Logan stalked, because that was his preferred method of getting from here to there. Regardless of their strides, they all reached their destination at about the same time.  
  
"Alerba save us," Tikad breathed as soon as they entered the room. He took a step backwards and leaned heavily on a chair.  
  
Kurt hastily retreated behind Logan. "Sorry," he mumbled.  
  
Erti had turned bright red. "This is exactly why we keeping having wars!" he said angrily. "You have no respect for us!"  
  
"It's not like you have much for us either," Tikad shot back.  
  
"Don't fight?" Kurt pleaded, his yellow eyes peeking over Logan's shoulder.  
  
"Heed the words of the Messenger!" Erti raised his arms. "Surrender to our superiority!"  
  
"He's a monster," Tikad's eyes narrowed. "You're a fool to listen to him."  
  
"Hey, they're not that bad," Kurt said in defense of the Vecchia Romans. "At least they were nice to me."  
  
"Only because they're too stupid to be properly afraid," Amara sniffed.  
  
Kurt growled, left his hiding spot, and waved a finger in Amara's face. "You listen," he said, his tail lashing dangerously. "I look like this and I still have more true friends than you ever will. So don't talk."  
  
*Bamf*  
  
"He exploded!" Tikad exclaimed fearfully.  
  
"He fulfilled his mission and returned to the other realm!" Erti said in awe.  
  
"Oh, he does that all the time," Amara griped. "It's *such* a rude way to end a conversation."  
  
Logan went to find the Elf, who, just as he suspected, was already drowning his woes in a corner of the kitchen.  
  
"I'm so tired," Kurt said without looking up. "I just want to go home."  
  
"Yeah," Logan said, leaning on a counter. "We will. What'cha got there?"  
  
"Dunno. Something out of the back of the fridge. No one will miss it."  
  
The kid lived by an odd sort of logic, but it must have been based on a solid set of rules, because it tended to put everyone else to shame.  
  
**********  
  
"I cannot *believe* I only got an A-minus on my math final!" Kitty wailed, throwing her backpack into Scott's car and climbing in after it.  
  
"You should've studied more," Jean said reasonably.  
  
"It's all Kurt's fault," Kitty rationalized. "I couldn't concentrate, knowing that he was out alone somewhere."  
  
"I thought you couldn't concentrate with him 'porting around all afternoon," Scott raised an eyebrow.  
  
Kitty 'hmmph'ed at him and slouched into her seat.  
  
Evan vaulted into the car. Everyone instantly noticed that he was carrying a large but otherwise nondescript book, simply because it was such a rare occurrence to see him in possession of anything resembling a study material.  
  
"Drive!" he said as soon as he was in the seat. "I'm in a hurry." Evan had been working on something very secretive lately, and wouldn't answer any questions about it. At least that's what the other kids guessed, since no one had bothered to ask him a question.  
  
Scott started the car and cautiously maneuvered out of the parking lot. "I thought at the Professor during gym," he said.  
  
"Any news?" Kitty pounced.  
  
"He says Kurt found Logan."  
  
"That's good," Kitty sighed and leaned back.  
  
They rode in silence for a while.  
  
"*Thought at*?" Jean burst out. "Honestly, Scott, can't you come up with anything better than that?"  
  
"What?" Scott kept his eyes on the road. "Nobody's invented a good verb for it yet. It's not something most people talk about often."  
  
"How about 'communicated via telepathy'?" she suggested.  
  
"Do you know how...er..."  
  
"Stilted?" Kitty helped.  
  
"Yeah," Scott snatched up the word. "Do you know how stilted that sounds?"  
  
"At least it isn't the diction of a two-year-old," Jean huffed. "Could you at least say you thought *to* him?"  
  
"What's the difference?"  
  
"The *difference*," Jean said hotly, "is the same as the difference between talking *to* and talking *at* someone. At the moment I almost feel I'm doing the latter."  
  
Kitty stayed out of the argument, but couldn't help feeling that the focus of the debate was more than a little unusual.  
  
"Fine," Scott conceded. "From now on I'll think *to* you."  
  
"And remember that's not the same as thinking *about* me," Jean said. "Which I know you are. In unflattering terms. Do you need me to translate that into small Scott words?"  
  
Scott pointedly failed to answer while parking the car in front of the Institute. Evan took his things and bolted, probably to lock himself in his room again.  
  
Kitty secretly thought that the recent shortage of Kurt-antics was putting a strain on everyone, the sort that one gets when things change suddenly, or when there's an unhealthy amount of seriousness. She rather felt her point was proven. 


	10. Finishing Business

"Feeling better?" Logan asked, following five minutes during which he watched the Elf search for meaning in the crumbs on his plate.  
  
"I guess," Kurt got to his feet, rinsed the plate in the sink, and headed back towards Tikad's suite. He was obviously not in any particular hurry to get there.  
  
When they entered, there were a number of reactions. Tikad stared. Erti started saying something about grand master plans and the impact of the divine on the mundane. Amara took it as a matter of course. Malkus launched into a tirade.  
  
"What's this mushy garbage you left me?" he demanded. "'Sail on'? What is that?"  
  
"A good-bye note?" Kurt said. "I thought I wouldn't see you again. How did you get here?"  
  
"Gee, I dunno, I usually like t'drive when I - the boat, lad! Have yeh forgotten already?" The sailor's violent gestures were truly something to be afraid of.  
  
"No, I mean how did you find me?" Kurt pressed.  
  
"Goodness, yeh forget quicker'n a schoolboy on summer break," Malkus said impatiently. "Y'spend fifty years lookin' fer things, y'learn how t'find them. Now, it seems there's a bit of a disagreement here."  
  
"Yeah," Kurt said dejectedly. "That sort of thing seems to be following me lately."  
  
"Now," Malkus thoughtfully paced in a single circle. "This gentleman," he indicated Erti, "says y'told him that the princess had insulted yeh."  
  
"A stupid, thoughtless thing to say," Kurt sighed. "I regretted it in a hurry."  
  
"He took offense at this," Malkus continued, "out of his great respect fer yeh, the Messenger to his people."  
  
"But I'm not a-" Kurt protested.  
  
"Be that as it may," Malkus interrupted. "Never trample on th' beliefs of others. I've seen it happen. Leads to a lotta really ugly smitin'.  
  
"Princess!" he took a few steps toward Amara. "Do ya agree that yeh mighta said some unkind things to our mutual friend?"  
  
"I won't deny it," Amara sniffed. "He *is* an uncultured peasant."  
  
Erti made an angry gesture and attempted to find some appropriately self-righteous words.  
  
"Considerin' all that," Malkus concluded. "I reckon this whole problem could be solved if Her Highness would simply apologize to the boy."  
  
"I will not!" Amara said instantly.  
  
"Really, it's okay," Kurt said. "I really don't mind if-"  
  
"Apologize!" Erti roared.  
  
"I'll do no such thing!" Amara snapped.  
  
"Amara," Tikad said. "Apologize to...him, and let's be done with it. Having our country overrun by a thousand soldiers is of no benefit to anyone."  
  
"Fine," Amara said, and barely changed her tone as she addressed her peer. "I apologize, Kurt," she said. "It was wrong for me to insult you simply because you are a filthy Gypsy."  
  
"Eine schlampig Zigeuner?"  
  
"Precisely."  
  
**********  
  
Kurt swung one leg on either side of the high windowsill. "How did you *do* that?" he asked after a while.  
  
"Do what?" Malkus asked back.  
  
"Get them to stop fighting," Kurt said. "I tried it, and they wouldn't listen to me."  
  
"Bystander's advantage," Malkus answered. "People like third parties. Think they've got all the answers, just on account of bein' unbiased."  
  
"Is that all?" Kurt looked at him in amazement.  
  
"And experience," the sailor shrugged. "People fight everywhere. I try t'clear things up, but they're usually at it again by the next time I pass through. Guess that's just the way of the world."  
  
"Well, thanks for coming back for me," Kurt looked out at the trees and the ocean beyond.  
  
"I didn't come fer *you*," Malkus replied. "I just came."  
  
"But you said-"  
  
"People say lotsa things. Most of it's trash."  
  
They studied each other for a while. "I ain't int'rested in ya, kid," Malkus said when the silence grew too long. "I dunno why y'think I *like* ya. Y'just happened t'cross my path."  
  
"You haven't tried to kill me yet," Kurt shrugged. "That's always a plus."  
  
"What's with yeh an' the screamin' an' the killin'?"  
  
"You know how some people have friendly faces?" Kurt looked out the window again. "My face tends to bring unfriendly people."  
  
"Whatever y'say," Malkus shrugged. "If yer quite done bein' angsty at me, I'll go back t'the boat and 'sail on'."  
  
"Yeah," Kurt sighed. "I'm done."  
  
**********  
  
"You *know* that thing?" Tikad asked in disbelief.  
  
"I go to school with him," Amara said disdainfully.  
  
"As soon as you're done at that Institute..." the king started again.  
  
"You'll bring me home for a proper education," Amara finished. "Yes. I know."  
  
"Well, you'd best be going," Tikad turned to his desk. "You're not needed here anymore."  
  
Amara looked at her father's back for a moment, then swept into the hallway. "Let's go," she ordered as she strode past Kurt and Malkus. "Back to the jet," she said to Logan, who was leaning against the wall a bit farther down. He shifted his balance over his feet and followed her. The peasant never made any noise when he walked, so Amara had no idea whether he was coming or not. A princess never looked backwards, so she just kept going until she reached the clearing where they'd left the plane. There she stopped and waited for Logan to open the door with the security code.  
  
He approached with the peasant, swiped a card, pressed a few buttons, and turned the handle.  
Amara climbed in and settled into a seat, smoothing her skirt around her. Kurt picked a seat in the back and instantly fell asleep.  
  
Logan fired up the jet, and soon Amara's home was no more than a speck in an endless ocean of blue. 


	11. Where the Heart Is

Kurt was awake, but only because he was hungry again. He couldn't remember where he was, or how he had gotten to such a comfortable place.  
  
He groaned, rubbed his eyes, and let them blink open. His room at the Institute...when had he gotten there? Oh well. Breakfast. He teleported out. The covers gently fluttered down to the bed.  
  
Kitchen. Food. Any cereal is fine. He poured an enormous bowl of something in a colorful box, fumbled for a spoon, and sat down to eat.  
  
The calories in the sugar-laden flakes hastened his return to sentience, and memories began to crawl across his mind. Malkus' amazing show of diplomacy...a plane ride...someone carrying him to bed. What time was it? 11:30 by the kitchen clock. AM by the amount of sunlight coming through the windows. What *day* was it?  
  
Kurt scooped up his bowl and shuffled off in search of other life. The mansion was very quiet. Maybe it was Saturday. He let himself into the study.  
  
"Good morning, Kurt," the Professor greeted him.  
  
"What's today?" the sleepy one asked, curling into a chair.  
  
"Wednesday," Xavier glanced at his desk calendar, "the nineteenth of June. The last day of school."  
  
"Will I graduate?" Kurt worried.  
  
"I've already worked it out with your principal," Xavier assured him. "Since you only missed your finals and the reviews for them, you won't have to make up any work. You'll have a week to study, and then I'll administer the exams."  
  
"Kay," Kurt crunched up another spoonful of cereal. "Oh...I don't have my books..."  
  
"Evan brought them home for you. They're outside your door."  
  
"My holowatch?"  
  
"Forge is working on it."  
  
"Kay," Kurt got up and ambled back towards the door. He paused halfway out of the room. "Professor?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Thanks for always thinking of everything."  
  
The door closed. Xavier smiled to himself. The job was hard, but the occasional rewards were well worth it.  
  
**********  
  
"Oh, good of you to be awake, peasant," Amara sniped as Kurt passed her on the stairs. "You only missed all of Tuesday."  
  
"Did I?"  
  
"I'm not speaking to you anymore," the Princess sniffed.  
  
Kurt opened his mouth to argue, but thought better of it. If she wasn't talking to him, they couldn't fight over anything.  
  
He continued to his room, scooped up Evan's black duffel bag, and hit the books. He had hardly gotten through basic chemical formulas when there was a knock at his door.  
  
"K-man?"  
Oh yeah. Half-day.  
  
"Door's open!" he called, swiveling in his chair.  
  
Evan squeezed in after opening the door to the smallest possible angle, in the way of a person who doesn't really feel welcome. "I thought about what you said."  
  
"Which?" Kurt pushed his memory back. "Nothing like the last minute?"  
  
"No," Evan shuffled his feet. "About how you would help me, but not do it for me."  
  
"I'm sorry," Kurt said honestly. "I'll make it up to you. If you failed because I-"  
  
"No!" Evan interrupted. "You were right. I can't just copy off my friends. It doesn't fly anymore." He paused. "I studied harder than anyone for the exams, and I still only got a C. Next year I've gotta do it right. I'm not going to be valedictorian. I don't have to be a brain surgeon. But I don't want to flip burgers for the rest of my life. I thought about it a lot and...that's where I'm going if I don't get it together."  
  
"What about the report?"  
  
"I made a deal with the teacher. He said I could hand it in today. If it was A work, I'd get an A. Anything else, I'd get an F. And fail the class," Evan fished in his pocket. "So...here."  
  
Kurt took the wrinkled booklet and smoothed it out. "Transportation Theory, by Evan Daniels," read the cover sheet. He slowly turned the page. There was a big red A+ in the corner. Kurt looked up.  
  
Evan was grinning widely. "This is for you, K-man," he said.  
  
"Evan, you are a true friend," Kurt smiled slowly. "Want to go downstairs?"  
  
"Sure."  
  
Kurt crossed the room, took Evan's hand in his own, and teleported. It was a gift from one friend to another, and it took no time at all.  
  
**********  
  
Evan was flying-tackled as soon as he rematerialized, and someone's face was halfway through his neck.  
  
"I missed you!" a muffled voice wailed from the vicinity of his collar. Watery eyes looked up at him. "Ohmygosh, you are so totally not Kurt." Kitty jumped back and turned a violent shade of red. "Not that I like, like him either or anything."  
  
"So where were you while the rest of us were stuck taking finals?" Rogue asked.  
  
"Long story," Kurt sighed.  
  
"It's summer," Jean claimed a chair. "We've got time."  
  
Kurt had an audience. They listened to the whole tale, gasping at all the right points. There was a moment of silent appreciation when he finished.  
  
"So this is all because Ray is irresponsible?" Scott asked.  
  
"It's no one's fault," Kurt said. "It was an accident."  
  
"But what did Evan *say* to you?" Kitty whined.  
  
"That's between me and the K-man," Evan non-answered.  
  
"Mind your business, Kitty," Kurt grinned.  
  
"You guys are *so* impossible."  
  
"I think," Rogue paused. "I think it's all because of narrow-mindedness and a few careless words at the wrong time."  
  
"I think you analyze too much," Evan rolled his eyes.  
  
"No, she's right," Kurt leaned back in his seat. "It's crazy, and pointless, and it shouldn't have to be. But...I guess that's just the nature of war."  
  
**********  
  
A/N: Yay, finally the whole story is done! ^_^ Hope you liked it. If it was worth the wait, let me hear a "Yeeaaahh!" I can't hear you! ... I can't - oh, there's the problem. You have to press that button there and - 


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